


deluge

by armethaumaturgy



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fisting, Animal Transformation, Blanche is a boy but uses she/her, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Furry, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Human Genitalia, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, cumflation, mute character, shes a lion and fucks him thats all this is thats literally a, yeah im Like That, yeah..
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 22:56:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20628917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armethaumaturgy/pseuds/armethaumaturgy
Summary: His tail swishes back and forth under the surface and he pulls away way too soon for both of their likes.“I was—” He falters then, pulling the hands close to his chest and looking off to the side. “I was wondering… what it would feel like, that's all.”





	deluge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elsword](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsword/gifts).

> we at it again lads  
only god can judge me

Gods above, Blanche is beautiful.

Not that Iphi doesn’t always think so, but watching her sprawled on the rumpled sheets, covered in a sheen of sweat and streaks of cum covering her stomach, a hand splayed over the stretched skin, it makes him almost jolt in the re-realization, fingers clenching around the dampened rag he’s holding to clean her. Sometimes the serene look she wears is too much and makes his heart leap in his chest.

Because she looks more content than ever, and he can't fight a smile as he wipes her thighs. 

Once she's clean, and almost purring in her throat, he taps her shoulder to get her to look at him. With heavy eyelids, she blinks up at him, a dopey look and a toothy grin on her face.

"C'mon, we need to get you cleaned up," he says, as he presses a kiss to the spot where her neck meets shoulder. She shivers and makes a tiny noise in the back of her throat, but otherwise lets him tug her up, pliant as Iphi scoops her up and carries her over to the bathroom.

He, always the forthright one, has a bath prepared already, and the water is no longer scalding as he'd drawn it, but a pleasant warm that Blanche seems to very much enjoy, if the way she curls up against the side of the bathtub is anything to go by.

He's still smiling as he grabs them both towels and puts them within hands reach.

“Don't fall asleep,” he says, and her only answer is some muffled mumble against the wooden rim of the bath.

He has to get in himself and move her to even get her to stop doing nothing but enjoying the warmth. He's on his knees before her, a bucket in hand that he uses to pour water over her hair, lathering it in shampoo from one of the innumerable bottles lining the edge. He rinses it, careful of her eyes, and then grabs another bottle and starts rubbing across her shoulders with the now-flower-scented sponge.

She's all-out purring by now, stretching to allow him better access as he moves downwards, suds floating around her as he wipes off the sweat and dirt of the day off of her.

When he reaches her stomach, he pauses — he lets the sponge drop into the bath in favor of running his fingers over the slight protrusion. Iphi's hand presses against the bulge and Blanche virtually doubles over against him, claws digging into his shoulders as she shakes with a very loud whine, high and airy. 

The water whitens under her very visibly, even through the suds. It keeps coming and coming, feels like it'll never end. Her cock twitches, leaking even more into the mess, bumping against Iphi's abdomen. 

He's looking up at her with wide eyes, a look of nothing short of wonder that she can't even see properly with the tears springing into her eyes. His mind wanders while he reaches under the water and starts cleaning her, fingers dipping into her stretched hole. She whines again, muscles fluttering around them uselessly.

Iphi coos at her, crooking his fingers and letting out another small spurt of his cum. He's thinking as he does this, maybe too hard, because he doesn't notice that Blanche has come to herself and is clean until she reaches down and grabs his wrist to stop him.

She leans up and pecks his lips. “Mm, yer a wee distracted, aren’tcha, rose? What’cha thinkin’ about?”

Heat rushes up to Iphi's cheeks, coloring them even redder than the bath's steam already has. Sorting out his thoughts is already hard enough, and voicing it seems all too silly.

He shakes his head in the end. “Nothing. You just look like you really like it every time.”

He ducks his head, fingers fiddling together as the absurdity of his own curiosity overcomes him.

“Hmm, I do,” Blanche purrs, and then pull him forward so she can better wrap her arms around him. Almost unconsciously, he leans into the embrace, and rubs the side of his good horn against her neck.

His tail swishes back and forth under the surface and he pulls away way too soon for both of their likes.

“I was—” He falters then, pulling the hands close to his chest and looking off to the side. “I was wondering… what it would feel like, that's all.”

Immediately he feels silly — the difference in their physiques only allows this one way, and he doesn't want Blanche to think he isn't happy with her companionship, because by the Twelve, he is, and he'd never felt as good during sex as he does with her, and—

“There… might be a way.”

Iphi's head snaps up and he has to focus on stopping his fingers before he starts apologizing like he was going to. Blanche's cheeks have turned that adorable cherry shade of red that he loves so much.

“What?” his mind goes, and then his hands follow suit just a second later.

Blanche fidgets in her spot; her ears pin themselves against her damp scalp and tail's tip flutters just above the water surface. Not the best time to think about how cute she is, Iphi.

“A’said,” she almost grumbles, “that there might b’a way. If, y'know, y’really wanna try it.”

Iphi's eyes go wide, his stomach flipping in a hot way that makes his spine tingle all the way up to his neck. He hopes Blanche doesn't notice, but who is he kidding, she probably does, knowing her.

“How?”

And now she’s going even redder, which shouldn't be physically possible at this point, but it happens nonetheless. “If I 'as… transformed, I could’a fill you up… prob’ly…” she trails off at the end, looking down into the soapy water instead of her husband. The idea sounds ridiculous in the first place, she shouldn't have said it at all, who would want to fuck a monster—

Iphi grabs her attention with tentative hand movements. “Is… that something you’d be comfortable with?” He tries really hard not to show how excited the idea makes him — his stomach feels hot and heavy as he imagines all the strength Blanche’s other form possesses on top of him. It should scare him, but he knows how in control Blanche will still be, and it doesn’t, and  _ that _ should be scary in itself, but it also isn’t — he doesn’t want to pressure her into anything when she doesn’t seem completely on board with her own idea in the first place.

“Me? Yeah, I j’st ain’t wanna make y’ uncomfortable or hurt ya, y’know. B’t if ya wanna try it, I… wanna do it with ya…”

Iphi’s shoulders rise on instinct, the urge to hide his face with a hand almost irresistible. It never ceases to amaze him how much Blanche cares about him, and how many whims she lets him get away with. Just the other day, he’d asked her if she would, maybe, blow him, and she just got on her knees and did it! He’d felt so bad afterwards, for ‘making her do it’, and she'd taken her time reassuring him he hadn't, that she was happy to do it, even excited that he'd managed to ask her for something he'd wanted.

He thinks he doesn't deserve her every single time something like that happens.

Not the best time to think about that right now, either. But the thought — the memory — gives him the courage for his next words.

"If you're okay with it then, I'd… love to," he says at last, feeling proud of himself for it, as soon as his fingers finish making the signs.

And it brightens Blanche's face up like a lantern in the deepest Kobold tunnels, which ends up painting a smile on Iphi's face in turn.

"When would ya like to try, luv? We can put away time for it… It'd prob'ly take a bit…"

Iphi looks away with a blush.

"Y'wanna do it now, don'tcha?" Blanche grins lopsidedly, knowing exactly how much stamina Iphi has. They could probably go all night long and he'd still be fine to keep going until lunchtime.

That actually sounds like a great idea to try one day; she stashes it in the back of her mind to revisit later.

Iphi manages to nod instead of an answer, a little jerkily, a little bashful. He still doesn't realize Blanche very much enjoys that aspect of him. Amongst all the others.

"We can do that, m'rose," she tells him, if only to quell the nervousness that seems to be bubbling up within him. He seems to perk up almost immediately, and Blanche can just barely see his tail waving to and fro where it is behind him, splashing softly.

"Would ya like that? We can get outta the bath 'n get ya all nice an' prepped."

It might be a bit of a low blow from her, but she knows how much he enjoys nice words and dirty talk — not that she herself doesn't — so she might be using it to her advantage. Just a bit, though.

He stands up right away — and lets her see just how excited he is already, shivering and with his slit dripping and parting itself.

Blanche licks her lips, pretty much level with that exact dripping slit. She can't resist, she leans forward and runs her tongue up the inside of his thigh and over the sensitive flesh between the pliant scales. Iphi's whole body shivers and he has to brace himself against the stained window, legs widening on their own accord to allow Blanche more space.

His hips twitch upwards, into her tongue, as she continues, the roughness of it dragging over him having him besides himself in no time flat. The sharp teeth barely skirting the edge of where scales meet flesh only add to the overload of sensations. Blanche's claws dig into his thighs, holding him as still as she can as he shakes, lips parted to let out the smallest squeaks of pleasure.

"Yer so pretty, rose," Blanche mumbles, half muffled because she's still pressed against him, nosing against the scales running up to his midriff. "Let's get'cha to the bed, mm?"

Iphi's thighs shake and almost give up under him, just then. His hips buck forward and he buries a hand into Blanche's hair, close to grabbing her ear in the process.

Thigh fluid drenches Blanche's jaw and splashes into the water, rivulets running down his legs after. He'd probably fall down if it weren't for her holding him steady.

He whines deep in his throat and finds Blanche glancing up at him through thick lashes, eyes crinkled at the corners and lips upturned in a soft smile.

"Did'ya j'st cum?" There's a tone of amusement in her voice, but Iphi knows she isn't making fun of him.

He's right; she's marveling at him, actually, because his cocks still haven't even shown themselves yet. Does it still constitutes a dry orgasm when he's basically washed her face with cum? A question to ponder on later, for sure.

When Iphi manages to get himself back under control, he pulls away, careful as he untangles his fingers from Blanche's hair. "Sorry, felt good," he says, clenching and unclenching his fingers a few times afterwards to get the feeling back into them.

She just grins at him.

"Don't apologize, 'm glad y'did. Always wanna make ya feel good. An' seein' ya cum like that was… Twelve above, y'looked so good." She nuzzles into his thigh, almost absently licking away the line of cum within her reach. "Let's get'cha in bed."

He lets himself be pulled out of the bath, still a bit dazed, which Blanche doesn't even blame him for (she's actually really proud of herself for getting him like that for once. nevermind that she'd been the same not half a bell ago).

She towels him off with gentle movements, enjoying the reversal of their roles. No matter what he might think, she likes taking care of him just the same as he enjoys taking care of her, he just doesn't let himself be vulnerable very often.

Her touches linger, skirting all the sensitive spots she'd learned over the summers, making him make such beautiful noises, cut-off whines, breathy squeaks and chirps that bounce off the bathroom walls. She'd tell him how much she enjoys his singing, but he already looks flustered and out of it with just her touches alone.

When she's satisfied that he's dried off enough — and no, her own impatience has nothing to with it, thank you very much — she pulls him up the stairs and pushes him onto the bed, putting a hand onto her hip as she takes a moment to just appreciate the way he looks sprawled on the covers, half-damp hair sticking up whichever way on the fluffed up pillow. And, though it might admittedly be a fixation, she finds the contrast between his dark skin and the pearly covers he takes such a care of striking, in the best of ways.

She has a jar of lube stashed under the side of the bed, and procures it with a quick squat.

"Just makin' sure, y'wanna do this, aye? Not just sayin' rubbish?" she asks as she plants her knees onto the mattress, leaving the jar next to Iphi's side for just a moment.

"I really… really wanna," Iphi signs to her. He feels a bit worried that Blanche doesn't believe him, or, even worse,  _ she's _ the one that doesn't want to do this. He tries to push that train of thought away, instead watching Blanche as she settles between his legs. He parts them to make it easier on her and she rewards him with a chuckle and places his thighs over her own knees instead.

“Hand me one o’the pillow, will ya?”

Iphi reaches behind himself and hands her the first pillow he gets his hand on, wondering what she needs it for, yet eager to please nonetheless.

“Thanks, luv. Raise ya hips.”

Iphi follows the directions and Blanche nestles the pillow under his backside. His heart skips a beat when his mind catches up with her thoughts, and he almost starts crying, reeling from how much she cares for him.

She seems to know what he’s thinking about, no way she doesn’t after all these summers and winters.

“Want ya t’be comfortable, because I need ta prepare ya real well. Ain’t no point to it if I end up hurtin’ ya later on,” she says, grabbing the jar and unscrewing it with deft fingers.

She’s watching his blushing face as she presses her wet fingers to his rim, waiting for his signal. He’s biting his bottom lip and pressing the side of his face into the pile of pillows. “I love you,” he signs, then again, and again.

Blanche’s lips split into a wide, toothy grin. She takes that for the permission that she knows it is and pushes a finger past the tight ring of Iphi’s entrance, making him push back into the intrusion almost instinctively. His pouch is dripping with slick; it runs down his crack and makes blanche’s fingers even wetter, even easier to move.

She has two fingers in him, scissoring and crooking them, when his cocks start poking their way out of their hiding spot. Strings of slick connect them as they bob up and down against his stomach. The difference between the warmth of his pouch and the bedroom air makes him shiver, or maybe it’s the way Blanche runs the pads of her fingers over his walls in just the right ways to make him whine.

She’s grinning down at him with a soft look in her eyes that he can’t even see with his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. She always enjoys what little noises he’s able to make and all the twitches and bucks of his hips that he can’t help.

She wants to see more, maybe even the look of utter euphoria he’d worn earlier in the bath. She adds another finger and wraps her other hand around the bottom one of his cocks. It’s so slippery her hand almost glides over it, almost slips off a few times. She hadn’t seen him this wet in… ever. She wonders if the cause is his earlier flood of cum. And he even seems to be more responsible, twisting and moving his hips in tandem with her hands, stuck between impaling himself on her fingers and thrusting into her fist, even when she loosens her grip to just about let him fuck himself.

She’ll have to experiment with this more later — it might be a way to satisfy him more, and that’s always what she wants.

“Yer doin’ great, ‘m gonna add another one now.”

She lets him know because she never adds more than three fingers, because she doesn’t have to, usually. But right now, not even her whole fist might be enough preparation.

He nods, though, and she adds her pinky, glad for all the extra slickness. She still pulls them all out to grab more of the slick on them, much to Iphi’s chagrin, which he voices with a borderline irritated squeak.

Blanche coos at him, “I gotta get ‘em wet again, luv, don’t wanna hurt ya. They’re comin’ back now, don’tcha worry.”

Iphi’s squeak morphs into a sigh of relief when she puts her fingers back in like she had promised, not even realizing that she pushes her whole in instead of just four fingers. The velvety walls flutter around her and clamp down when she twists her wrist, pushing the ball of her palm against the inside of his rim.

That gets him almost in tears, thrashing as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’d already made a puddle of slick on the pillow Blanche had placed under him, and also on his own stomach. It makes her feel pride swelling in her breast, almost as strong as the swelling of her cock, bumping against the side of Iphi’s side. Sometimes she gives in and rubs against the scaled skin to alleviate the pressure, but that’s a secondary thought as she watches the sweat beading on his skin, the way he moves no matter what she does, the way he grips the covers in something akin to a death grip, the way he  _ is _ now.

She turns her hand over inside of him and he jolts, hips rising high off the pillow and the balls of his feet digging into Blanche’s back. She’s almost, almost surprised when ropes of thick cum splash all over his stomach, stark against his skin and starting to run down his sides almost immediately.

She keeps moving her hand, reaching deeper and deeper every few thrusts. He shakes like a leaf through his afterglow, so much longer than usual because she keeps going, cooing at him when his breath hitches and tears start rolling down his cheeks. She stops her hand when she notices those, leans up to wipe them off with the back of her knuckles.

“Too much? D’ya wanna stop?”

Iphi’s answer is a vehement head shake, and she can see him struggling to let go of the covers, so she gives him time to do that.

“I wanna— I wanna keep going,” he says, also getting his tears in check, blinking them away. “If you still want to, that is.”

Blanche’s expression softens and she leans down further to kiss him, petting his horn with a gentle hand. “‘Course I do. Y’just came thrice already, don’t wanna overwhelm ya is all.”

Iphi’s face looks like Ifrit’s flaming inferno already, but he somehow manages to make himself look even more embarrassed. “I can keep going. Stamina’s good…”

Blanche chuckles; looks like her worries were for naught, but she still thinks the pause was good for them both. No point having Iphi crying his eyes out from her pushing in.

“A’ight, get ready then, Iph. M’gonna transform now.”

He looks at her, blinking long lashes and propping himself on his elbows. She slips off the bed and gives him a soft smile before letting herself get surrounded by the aether petals, shimmering and shining as they float by. Her petite form flutters out and is replaced by the lion towering over Iphi by more than it should take to scare him. His heart beats wildly in his ribcage, trying to beat right out of it, but not out of fear. Instead, he’s filled with excitement.

His breaths leave parted lips in uneven pants, hitching along with his heart. “Take me,” he signs, and the almost predatorial look that enters Blanche’s eyes is more obvious than Iphi’s own excitement.

A deep roar, too throaty to be the usual retocity, rumbles out of her maw. The bed — the whole loft — creaks as she gets onto the bed, front paws caging Iphi on the bed and the hind ones planted on the ground. All she seems to care about is Iphi, so perfect when he’s spread and ready under her, flushed and looking at her with nothing short of awe.

She nudges his side with one paw, pushing at him to get him to turn around onto his front. He doesn’t, though, instead pushes back against her paw to get it back where it’s been on the bed.

“I’m not gonna turn around, I wanna see you,” he says, with a strike of boldness so unlike him. 

He can almost taste the surprise in the air between them, but Blanche lets him. She’d just wanted to make it easier on him, physically, but she can’t lie even to herself — his determination is absurdly hot right now.

He looks up at her, holding her eyes with a heated, glazed over gaze. It’s like he’s challenging her to even ask if he’s ready.

There’s no way he isn’t at this point.

So she doesn’t even offer a questioning look — she’s gotten riled up, but probably nowhere near as much as he has. He raises his hips on his own, without her even sliding her paws under them, which she does anyways to take some of the strain off.

She wonders if this is the difference he feels every time they have sex; he’s so much smaller than her right now, it almost looks painful how high he’s held off the mattress. He looks more than comfortable, though, with his legs sprawled over Blanche’s hips.

She takes a deep breath and lines herself up with his stretched hole, barely able to see it through her chest fur. She worries in the back of her mind, that it won’t fit, just for a moment.

But Iphi’s mouth falls open as she starts pushing in, neck arching back. She has to hold herself back; she’s so much stronger than him now, at least physically, that pushing in as she usually would would spear him on her cock in no time at all, and she doesn’t want that right now. She wants him to feel every single ilm of her as she enters him, holding him as steady as she can with how hard he’s writhing.

She leans down, pulling a high, breathy keen from him, and drags her tongue across his cheek. It tastes of salt from sweat and leftover tears, and she finds it delicious.

He leans into the touch, forehead bumping into her nose before he falls back against the pillows. Looking down, he can see barely a part of Blanche’s cock is inside of him, yet he already feels full to the brim.

“More,” he says, “It feels good…”

Blanche’s eyes narrow into thin slits, heart pounding hard and fast in her chest, so close to Iphi that he can hear it.

She shifts, pulls out a little before pushing back in, now just over halfway in. Iphi’s toes curl, biting down at his bottom lip. He pushes back against her as best he can, trying to hurry her up, impaling himself even further. It’s what he wants, but it still knocks the wind out of him.

Blanche gets the idea, sees just how impatient he’d really gotten, and steadily pushes herself in to the hilt — or at least the first one — with short thrusts. Iphi looks ready to cry again by the time she’s fully in, just the knot left to go, teasing his rim. She doesn’t force that in yet, gives Iphi time to adjust to the stretch.

He’s wet and tight around her, just as good as she’d known he would be, if not better. She could stay sheathed in this velvety warmth forever.

She can’t help a purr from deep within her chest. Iphi reaches out and pets over her cheek, shaking fingers brushing through the thick fur. He can feel her and every single one, even the most miniscule, of her movements, so deep she’s almost up in his throat.

He’s not sure which one of them is making noises at this point. It’s just a cacophony of purrs and trills, heavy breaths cutting through the heat between them.

“I love you,” Iphi says, more fluid movements as he keeps repeating it over and over again, as he’s wont to during sex. Blanche replies to him by purring louder, her own version of ‘I love you’.

Her patience wanes thin quickly, so she braces her legs and pulls out until only her tip is in — which is still mindboggling when Iphi looks down to where they’re connected. He holds his breath as she starts to push back in, gaze glued to her cock. It disappears into him again, bit by bit.

He gasps, a hand flying to his stomach. Under his bobbing (and touch-starved) cocks, his stomach bulges slightly, and even more the more she keeps pushing. He’s looking down at it with unbridled wonder, cupping his hand over the swell of her length inside. Pushing against it make it feel even bigger, or maybe it makes him tighten up, but either way it feels amazing.

He doesn’t get long to marvel at it, because Blanche sets a pace, dragging over his walls back and forth in long, but powerful thrusts. The bed creaks, bumps against the wall rhythmically, barely audible to them.

Iphi’s hands come down to grip at her paws, if only to ground himself. Not that it really helps.

He gets lost in the pleasure, every single thrust making him feel like he can’t breathe. Time seems to slow down. He only gets jolted out of his reverie when she shifts, a little lower over him so she can lick at his chest, his neck, wherever she can reach. The change makes Iphi’s cocks rub against her stomach and he whines, eyes falling shut with the pleasure.

He's sure he’s matting her fur with his slick, and he’d feel bad about it, if he had the capacity to. She doesn’t seem to mind, at least.

They fall into an easy rhythm, rocking against each other with languid moves. It can’t be even described as fucking now — no, what they’re doing right now is nothing less than lovemaking.

Iphi would lament the lack of Blanche’s words, whispering her usual praise and mindless babbles, but the quiet — relative, really, because her noises are loud as is — forces him to focus on her more.

Her cock drags over all the sensitive spots inside, all at the same time. He feels like he’s going crazy, getting more and more strung up like a tidal wave that’s about to crash into him and swallow him whole.

That’s why he doesn’t notice his peak creeping up on him until it hits, in the end nothing like a crashing wave. He feels like he soars in nothingness, for moments stuck in limbo, weightless and only moved by Blanche’s slow thrusts, prolonging the feeling until it borders on too much.

He comes to himself to find Blanche licking his neck. There’s a whine in her throat and her movements are getting jerkier, shorter. She doesn’t pull out much anymore, instead reaching deep, over and over again.

He clings to her, one horn pressing into her face in an affectionate gesture. His grip tightens, mouth falls over in a soundless scream.

She holds him still — there will definitely be claw marks left on his hips — and  _ pushes _ , delving her knot into him in one jerky thrust. It should hurt, but it doesn’t. The pressure on his overstimulated nerves forces a few more weak spurts of cum out of his cocks, alongside another whine.

And then everything comes to a standstill.

Blanche lets out a roar, guttural and echoing, that shakes down to his core. He feels the first spurt of cum flowing into him deep in his stomach. He gasps for breath and it won’t come to him. The outline of Blanche’s cock in him gets lost the more he’s filled, skin taut and stretched, and it’s the most magnificent feeling. It feels like he’s being seared from within, spurt and spurt lodged deep inside with nowhere to go.

It seems like it lasts forever, and he definitely come one more time, cocks twitching pathetically against his stomach with barely a few drops left to dribble out and rolls down to where Blanche is filling him completely.

She’s still licking at him, his chest, her tongue dragging across sensitive skin. Iphi’s shaking like a leaf in the fall, completely unaware of it. He doesn’t think he’d ever felt anything like this.

Blanche barely stops herself from collapsing onto him, panting against his chest. She makes a few more weak thrusts, Iphi’s tight walls milking her of all she has to give. Her aether starts blooming, flitting away as she shrinks back to her real self, sweaty and flushed. 

She does collapse now, landing heavy on top of him and making him cry out, a choked chirp.

She’s pushing down on his bloated stomach — her cock is nowhere near big enough to hold everything in now, and Iphi’s fluttering rim offers almost no resistance as the cum comes flooding out, drenching both his own and Blanche’s thighs.

His arms shoot out and wrap around Blanche’s shoulders, nails digging into her scarred back. Tears rush to his eyes. He sobs into her shoulder, shaking as the cum pours out of him steadily. It’s unlike the usual — of course it is, the quantity doesn’t even compare — and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

“Shh, shh,” she coos at him, running a hand through his sweaty, mussed up hair. “Ya did so well, luv. Yer fine, yer fine.”

He just whines instead of an answer, eyes shut. He thinks he knows why Blanche is always a boneless, tired mess after sex. He probably couldn’t stand up now if he tried.

but that’s exactly what she tries to do, pulls away and nudges at his hand to try and get him to get up.

“We gotta get’cha washed up, Iph,” she says, voice low, rumbly, and full of affection. 

He pulls his hand away from her grip, much easier than her words would imply. “Can’t,” he says. Right then, another spurt of cum flows out of him, and his leg twitches, toes curling.

“You’ll feel better after washin’. C’mon.”

She tries to persuade him, but what she doesn’t know… “Never felt better. Don’t wanna.”

He still feels weightless, even his signs feel like they’re being made by someone else. The quite literal pool of cum accumulating under him is slowly turning cold and uncomfortable and making him want to move, but not enough to actually have the drive to.

Blanche laughs heartily, a soft look in her eyes. Her husband looks so thoroughly sated and genuinely happy, and the knowledge that it was her who made him like this puts a warmth into her heart.

“C’mooon,” she drawls, back to tugging at his hand. When he just grumbles back, frowning with his eyes closed, she decides to take matters into her own hands. Literally.

She slips them under him and hoists him up with the same ease as she does her greatsword. He squeaks, arms wrapping around her shoulders in a fir of panic. His squeak turns into a whine, cum dripping to the wooden floor and landing with a too-loud noise.

"Let's get it outta ya, an' then we can nap together." She leans down to press a kiss to the crown of his head, still with a smile, "How's that sound?"

Now there's an agreeable noise coming from him, and hey smile widens even further. If he gets like this from her fucking him like this, them maybe she should do it again.

And very soon.


End file.
